Tomorrow In The Midst
by marthasville
Summary: This story continues right after the end of GWTW. Scarlett realizes she has to do whatever it takes to get Rhett back. Will she be able to make the transformation? Tomorrow is closer than she thinks.
1. Ch 1 The Embrace of a First Love

I do not own GWTW and its characters. Margaret Mitchell owns GWTW and no monetary gain will come out of this. I just own my love and appreciation for the characters who jump right out of the book and into your heart.

The story picks up right after she says, "….tomorrow is another day".

"Tomorrow in the Midst"

Chapter 1 An Embrace from a First Love

The train rolled past miles and miles of sprawling fall foliage, a sight that always captivated the passengers headed for Jonesboro during its climactic brilliance this time of the year. Even the children welcomed the beauty and color since their recent days kept them in the traditional bleak black state of mourning. The coloring leaves were the only things that reached out to offer them some comfort. To a despondent Scarlett, she knew that soon all the trees would become leafless and lifeless, especially at Tara, her final destination, and grew wearier to think that desolation would surround and remind her of how unfruitful her life had become.

As Rhett promised, he left after Melanie's funeral to Europe. Scarlett watched him kiss Wade and Ella, goodbye, and by the way he did, she knew he wasn't intending to return to them soon. The memory crept once more upon her as she stood on the same spot Gerald and her once stood overlooking the splendor of their rural estate. The white imperfect frame of her childhood home still stood as mighty as the thick leaning oak trees blazing their magnificent colors against the last fury of the sunset. It was only a matter of time before those feelings of despair would be replaced. This was what she travelled all this way for, to regain sight of what she herself had protected, suffered for, yearned for, and revived—her first love.

And to pay homage to the dead, Gerald and Ellen, with a renewed promise to keep their legacy alive. What caused the Irish to love their land so, enough to fight for it, even to the death was Gerald's one simple gift to her, the heart to possess a place or something to call your very own. To be the lady Ellen had painstakingly and diligently taught her to be against every bone in her wild-country-flower-ridden body. The war and the ruthless determination to be rich had drained the precious nectar her vivacious charms of which had once pollinated the county boys to distraction. She was sweet on them, and they sure came in swarms. Scarlett realized it on that spot, that if she practically controlled the young men of the county, why couldn't she get this one. She'd think about it tomorrow, not letting strange and wonderful sensations return inside her to lose its momentum. She drew in a deep breath, making her chest swell as she stood tall and still.

She found standing there that she needed to return to Tara, not to collect herself, but to travel back to the days before the wind had taken the ways of the old world. Much would be forever lost, but charm and goodness, always found its way out of the rubble. Scarlett let the tears freely roll at the last thought that reminded her of Melanie. She was that charm and goodness when Tara was a nothing but a shabby war-torn shelter. She was that charm and goodness the Atlanta folks flocked to, to see for themselves steely eyes that could convince anyone the south had never utterly failed to win a war. But the war did win her, at least the physical state only a few people were able to see—Dr. Meade, Scarlett and Rhett—the only eyewitnesses who could conclude that she had never fully recovered from the siege.

But the most important reason for returning to Tara was to cry without restraint, to cry as a little child would before getting back up to play again. The kind of child she was, and wished she could still be, without her adept skills of deception, but the child with innocence and the whole world waiting for her with open arms. Life was moving on and she needed to arm herself with the emotions Tara conjured in her. Before she could, she needed to give herself this moment far from thin walls, and intrusive tendencies of humans. She needed to cry against the solid trunk of the oak tree, to confide in the winds that held the fragrant mixture of Gerald and Ellen's essence—musk of horses and lemon verbena sachets. For now it would be enough for Tara's temperate wind to embrace her before the season drew to a close for a harsher one, knowing it would be the only source of consolation she could take without shame and pity. It would be the only embrace she'd find herself in for quite some time.


	2. Ch2 Train of Thought

Ch 2 Train of Thought

Her stay at Tara only lasted for two short weeks. While she was there, she spent most of the time cooped up in Gerald and Ellen's room, writing. A hobby she dreaded all her life but at this point found it to help her sort through a sea of troubles washing up and crashing against each other in her head. Besides hearing uninteresting county gossip from her sister, there was nothing more unpleasant than Sue Ellen coaxing Scarlett to relay the juiciest talk from Atlanta. How unaware her sister was that she was staring at it right at the face. So delving into the new task kept everyone at a courteous distance where she didn't have to close the door anymore. The more she wrote, the clearer it became, like a mantra, there they were, those words repeating itself throughout her notes. "Rhett said", and "Melly said." The only two souls on Earth who cared to have a conversation with her in her adult life.

She started to write letters addressing them "Dearest Melly," and expressed all the thoughts and promises she was going to do to make things right for Ashley and Beau, to show her how much she meant, but was too busy with the business to make time when she was still alive. What she didn't care to write about was the bitter resentment regarding Ashley that consumed her emotions towards her now dearly beloved, but permanently departed, sister.

Scarlett believed this was a sufficient penance instead of reciting verses repeatedly until it just became a meaningless tone, to write pages and pages about all the good qualities and memories of Melly and to someday, share it with anyone who knew Melly, to share it most of all with her preferred and erudite confidante, Rhett. There was also that side of her that boasted she could write about the Melly no one knew, even Ashley couldn't come close.

It was all pleasant at Tara the first few days, until the sisters started to ease into their childhood routine, where Sue Ellen would create a diversion to get Scarlett's attention, which always ended up in an exchange of angry words, then escalate into hair pulling, and ultimately end with some nail gauging. Except this time the diversion was meant to lure Scarlett away from her new preoccupation. Sue Ellen pleaded for Scarlett to take Mammy back to Atlanta. She admitted being afraid of taking care of her. Scarlett really didn't notice the changes in Mammy, and how it didn't look good at all. That was enough to get her going on the renewed goal to fulfill the promise to her mother.

"Scarlett, surely you must have noticed Mammy's been struggling with her back. And if she remains here there wouldn't be anyone able or strong enough to help her move about. She's been keeping to herself, but I hear her crying at night, and it worries me. We don't have enough money to pay for the doctor's expenses for ourselves, how do you think we're going to afford hers?"

The look of contempt for her sister was apparent, but fear, heightening fear set in faster as her feet carried her hastily to the porch where Mammy was sitting watching the children as they helped with the animal feeding chores.

"Mammy?"

She found a strange voice, come from within, speaking out the next moment. With such tenderness, she knelt to look up into her evasive brown eyes. "Mammy, mammy" was all that could come out as she attempted to circle the old woman's waist with her arms. Her head felt soothingly warm on Mammy's lap, but the gentle warmth was suddenly taken over by hot tears spilling from her eyes.

"Chile, what is it lamb?" Mammy said, taken aback in her mind to previous decades ago, saying the same thing. Scarlett recalled that same past. They were on this very porch again, before the war, awaiting for Gerald's return to receive the harshest discipline he had to exact on her. Miss Ellen learned from Dr. Fontaine that Scarlett had been known to swim in a nearby pond with other boys and darkies on numerous occasions.

The hand that brushed over her hair was not the same heavy warm hand that had soothed her countless times before. It was timid, clammy and shaky. To Scarlett's fright, Sue Ellen was right! Mammy was masking her pain. She cried harder, yet Mammy couldn't ease her as she wanted.

"Stop your crying mah lamb. Stop now."

"Oh mammy. It's just us two now. Just you and I!" Scarlett muffled into Mammy's skirt.

"Mah lamb. Evetin's gwona be okay. Mista Rhett gwona cum bak."

"No Mammy, not right away. Not the way I want him to."

"Mah lamb. Yuz can't give up on him so eazy. Jez not lakz yuz givin up."

"Oh Mammy, that's because there were so many people depending on me. I had Melly. I had Pa and Ma. Now I only have you and you're sick Mammy! Only I didn't notice, and now when I need you more than ever! I do! I do!" she didn't realize she started pounding on Mammy's arm rests.

"Ssh. Ssh, mah lamb. Das all der is. No uze cryin. I ain't that sick."

Suddenly she gathered her thoughts quickly and told her, "And you won't be anymore. I'm going to take you back to Atlanta with me. I want to be in the city for the holidays, and you're coming with me…."

"Scalit. Scalit! I'z can't leave, jez yet. I'z need ter git bedder…."

"How can you get better here? There are no real doctors for miles and it could get too expe-."

Mammy interrupted her, "I'z jez wanna rest, now, mah lamb."

"Mammy?" Scarlett struggled to hold her thick arms, "If you want to stay, I'll send a doctor over here to check on you every week. I will. I promise!"

"I'z aint gittin bedder. Dis happen ter ol fokes, an dey doan git bedder"

Her instinct was to argue until she would get her way, but there was something in her that brought to the fore a few words she wrote in one of the letters to Melanie. A memory that recently surfaced had profoundly affected her. When they were both nurses during the war, Melanie had once asked a dying soldier where his favorite place in the world was. Scarlett watched both Melanie and the soldier close their eyes to imagine they were there, and slowly the soldier slipped away, with his last thoughts of peace showing on his bloodied face.

"You love this land, just like Pa and I. Don't you Mammy?"

Before she could say more Mammy's body started to convulse into the first emotional outbreak Scarlett had ever seen from her. After a few minutes, she began to recompose herself.

"Wen iz ma time. Yuz promised ter burry me nex ter Miss Ellen."

"I will, but don't count on going any time soon, Mammy. I don't know about you but I'm certainly one to try new things for the better, and if I find something out there to help at least make you feel better, then I will."

They managed to both find a need to laugh despite the seriousness of the moment. Another thought suddenly flashed through Scarlett's mind. There were always the newest and the latest things in Europe, which Rhett often brought back. Perhaps they had cures for Mammy's ailment too. He left the address of the hotel with Uncle Henry.

Quickly rising and kissing Mammy's forehead, she raced back to the room to begin her correspondence with Rhett. She wanted to find ways to show she was changing and the first thing was to begin a letter putting the need and the subject of others well before hers. But as she neared her door, she caught Sue Ellen coming from out of the room.

"Do you mind telling me what you were doing in there?" Scarlett hissed.

Sue Ellen was about to ignore her and took quick steps to pass her, but she was too upset to let this go.

"So Melanie was more of a sister to you than I ever was?"

"How dare you read my letters!" she yelled shoving her to the side so she could grab the papers on the desk. Sue Ellen followed her in and closed the door, tears welling up over her bottom eyelids.

"I forbid having this conversation with you." Scarlett determined.

Sue Ellen sat on the bed and began wiping away the steady stream of tears before speaking.

"Don't you think out of anyone in this world, I would understand what it's like."

"Why I have no idea what you mean Suzy. What is what like?" Scarlett asked still annoyed about the brazen intrusion of her privacy.

"To lose someone to death before you can make things right?"

Sue Ellen looked her in the eye to find Scarlett's signature gaping mouth in the shape of an O. There was a lingering silence as they both waited for Scarlett to process this revelation. She sat beside Sue Ellen and slouched in a position to concede. Something Sue Ellen wasn't quite used to seeing. A sigh escaped from Scarlett and she began to say,

"I suppose you would know. Oh Suzy, you mustn't blame yourself about Pa. The war did so many things to us all, and we all tried in our own way to get back what they took from us."

She reached out for Sue Ellen's hand, imagining how Melanie would have handled this situation, because it was Melanie who always knew all the honorable and dignifying things to do and say. If she could just imitate it, she just knew she would redeem both herself and the value of their posthumous friendship.

"Why I put myself on every respectable Old Guard's blacklist for making my riches off the Yankees. I don't know if I regret it, yet. But what I do know is that the world is a very different place, and those who accept the changes flourish like green bay trees."

She giggled a little remembering how she didn't take that as a compliment from Rhett, but now she understood better what he meant. And she rather be, a green bay tree, than a wide old oak tree any day.

It was almost dark when Wil found both sisters lying in their parents bed, napping. He could tell by their fuller faces, they had shared a deeply emotional moment. So quietly, he backtracked out of there and had one of his daughters wake them instead.

The next day, racing across the horizon was a dust cloud formed by a galloping horse. Wade came running in to tell everyone. Scarlett came running out of the kitchen and paused finding Wil leaning on the porch railing. She didn't want to appear too anxious, but with Wil, there was nothing he didn't pick up on.

"Hoping it be from Mr. Butler?"

She held her neck as if it would stop the red color from creeping up to her face.

"From anyone is just fine. It gets mighty lonely being in the cold country when you've gotten used to the city."

"Well if it makes you feel better. I hope it is from him," he said, pinched his hat onto his head and walked down the steps and around the corner until he disappeared.

Sue Ellen watched from her bedroom window, while Mammy occasionally peaked out from the kitchen window, both watching her receive the telegram.

Scarlett read the telegram out in the cold, and caught sight of both Mammy and Sue Ellen and shouted to them, "It's from Rhett!"

Both women smiled but as soon as they turned around, the relief they felt lifted a heavy cloud of mystery between Rhett and Scarlett. For instance they had wondered who left who? And if talk about a divorce was more than an empty threat now. Both could at least rest easy, but to Scarlett the telegram from Rhett meant he was excruciatingly far from reach. It simply stated he had arrived in England. Somehow Rhett knew the small yellow piece of paper would lift the looming suspicions that would compromise Tara's sheltering provisions on Scarlett and the kids. To Scarlett, she held on to that small piece of paper as if the words were written in gold.

To be continued…….


	3. Ch3 To Melanie's les Miserables

3 To Melanie's Les Miserables

Misery loves company, Scarlett reluctantly felt about her situation, and decided it was the only thing she wanted to immediately capitalize on upon her return to Atlanta in hopes of getting back on the good graces of her vulnerable yet grief-stricken persecutors. She knew she could never replace Melanie, they never shared many of the same ideals, but what they did share was the network of old, well-meaning, meddle-some women who had the power to make or break anyone's climb up the ladder in southern high society, and for her sake—the power to restore it. The same group she knew would completely banish her from their exclusive circle once the thick emotional atmosphere of mourning would dissipate and return into their hearts the contempt that had been manifesting since the night she danced without a care at the bazaar.

This was the window of opportunity for her to reprove herself to everyone; to show an imitation of a humbled Scarlett, exactly like the genuine quality in Melanie. If she convinced herself all these years, of what Rhett said, of showing a good imitation of love for a man—namely Ashley—then she could try with the same conviction to restore her mother's good name, and to learn from Melanie's flawless example how to be a grand lady. As long as she had the zeal to do it she was certain things would fall into place.

The only challenge that may possibly endanger her plans were to keep two things—her solemn word to watch over Melly's son, Beau and the safe public distance from Ashley, while carrying on with the business for him. Her plan for absolution would help not only to heal herself, for she had had been in a perpetual state of grieving, undergoing one loss after another. Ultimately, she believed her acceptance back into Atlanta society would help guarantee Rhett's return. She believed if she regained favor with the Old Guard, then Rhett would undoubtedly have a similar reaction. After all, that was what he lovingly and successfully labored to do for their Bonnie.

She spent the first week of her return calling on the Meades, Whitings, Bonnells and the Elsings, but after they took her in, she felt as if no one could console her, as if they didn't want to try. Everyone wanted to appear strong for each other. Whenever Scarlett, and only she, brought Melanie's name up, someone would change the subject by asking if anyone else would like another cup of tea or biscuit.

After leaving the Elsings, on the way home in the carriage, Scarlett was incensed. She asked herself, why do they want to forget about Melanie? Was there a superstition not to talk about the dead that she didn't know about? Her anger grew even more from her usual lack of understanding of the behavior of humans. Then her heart ached as many times, for so many years, she was able to gain understanding after discussing such things with Rhett.

'I need him so. If only he knew.' She sighed, rephrasing her thoughts, 'No. If only he cared.'

Then comfort came one night, from someone in the most inconceivable way. She was at the store making sure the new merchandise was displayed properly in the store front before it opened in the morning. She enlisted the help of her children, since they too were still moping around with their heads down, missing their playful and endearing Auntie Melly who had usually watched them while Scarlett worked on her own.

"Since you know a great deal about books, Wade, why don't you do that section and start straightening it up." She suggested rather proud of herself for sounding as encouraging as she knew to be.

"I could arrange the plates, mother. Bonnie and I used to play with our tea sets all the time. I know how to set them. May I Mother?" Ella asked.

Scarlett smiled, but recalled how clumsy Ella could be, practically ruining the whole set of expensive toy chinaware Rhett had bought Bonnie and her on his last trip to London. She claimed to have tripped on Bonnie's doll which caused her to tip the tiny play table over, sending the little tea cups and saucers catapulting into the air and down the concrete floors of the veranda.

Before Scarlett could voice her disapproval, Ella went off to the back. She trailed behind her, calling out to her, but the little girl was all too eager to finally be able to please her mother.

Scarlett came to a sudden halt behind the counter, as she could see for herself, Ella reaching for a box of China. Underestimating its heavy weight for its compact size, it slipped through her hands and down the floor—the contents, crashing and cracking within the intact wooden box.

If it wasn't for Ella's tear flooded eyes, meeting hers, so frightened, so apologetic, Scarlett would've focused on the damaged merchandise, blasting the poor girl about how valuable and rare those plates were, and to thank her for the worth it no longer had.

"I, I--" Ella tried to muster, but became mortified to see her mother towering over her.

The towering figure knelt quickly before her, boring those intense green eyes into hers. All the little girl could do was wince, tears gushing out as she felt her body suddenly engulfed by a dark warm scratchy material. Then it suddenly pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. In another instant, she was engulfed again, but this time she was able to see a shoulder—her mother's, shaking as she embraced her puzzled child. She had never gotten this close to her mother, had never felt the porcelain skin of the face she always marveled from afar. There was something about this moment she could not understand, as if the tables were turned somehow.

Ella held her and soon found herself kneeling as well, locked in her mother's embrace. The little girl didn't know what to apologize for, but she definitely felt sorrier for her mother than herself. She had seen the way adults cry, but her mother's unnerved her a great deal. It almost reminded her of when she cried for the loss of her sister. The young girl came to the conclusion that her mother did lose a sister. Auntie Melly always called her that.

"I'm sorry, mother. Please don't cry," Ella started and began crying, herself, "Tell me how I can fix it. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Scarlett didn't bother pulling away. All she could understand was that there was a rush of comfort flowing into her bloodstream holding her daughter, being allowed to surrender in this moment to someone. She felt Ella stroking her back. The soothing touch took her back to so many memories of when Miss Ellen, and Mammy had done the same.

"No darling. You can't fix it," she whispered inaudibly.

But what came to her was the thought that she now truly saw the literal point Rhett had made before he departed, discouraging the salvaging of shattered remains. Oh, how shattered the pieces were, in their relationship. Rhett was a man who paid attention to detail and he saw—worst yet—allowed the pieces to crumble. That realization triggered a surge of sorrow causing this outcry of pain. She began to see the obvious futility there was in trying to pick up the pieces. Just like the shattered China that lay beside them, the tardy realization and proclamation of her love for Rhett was summed up in the few words she whispered to her daughter.

"It isn't worth a thing now."

After a few minutes, Ella left her side to fetch her something to drink. Wade had been informed, and when he found his mother's limp body leaning against the shelf heaving, something stirred within him. He braced her right shoulder and her arm, and whispered in her ear,

"Mother, if it'll help you pay for the damage, I can sell pa's sword."

She looked up at him snapping out of a daze, but she seemed too beaten to express her indignation. As her eyes fell, she strained to reprimand him.

"Don't you dare do such a thing, young man. Why that sword is worth more than everything in this store put together, and more. I risked my life during the war to get that sword back from a Yankee captain."

"Really mother?" Wade asked, astonished. He would've never interacted this way, if it wasn't for the mild tone Scarlett used. To him, she sounded just like Aunt Melanie admonishing him, right before she would begin to tell a story that usually had a moral in it, instead of the usual threatening tone he was accustomed to hear from her, which only made him cringe and whimper.

Ella handed her the glass of water, and while she took a sip, Wade continued to implore. "A Yankee captain? Was he mean? Did he hurt you? Did you hurt him? Were you in a sword fight?"

"That is absurd, Wade! A lady never has to fight, much less wield a sword against a man."

"Maybe because you were beautiful," Wade added.

She envisioned her uneven tan and soiled dress that day, and continued, not taking in the compliment,

"Nevertheless, my knees were shaking under my skirt, yet I calmly told him, the sword belonged to your grandfather. It turns out they fought together in the Mexican war!" She paused to take a gulp of water. Drenching up the memory made her heart race.

"If I never spoke out…" She noticed his captivated eyes change into fear, so she carefully chose her next words.

"…I guess I had to. You were a brave boy. It was just us two, against him. Beau was in my arms, but he was a baby. You told him it was yours, and I just helped you explain it to him."

She handed Ella the glass, and watched her daughter's eyes gleam. She had to say something before the little girl ended up in a crying jag.

"No use crying over broken glass. What's done is done. Come here, Ella darling."

She pulled her down beside her, and grabbed Wade's hand before continuing,

"Momma's just going to sit here for a while. It's been a tiresome day—for all of us, I should say. Don't you worry, Ella. One day this store will be yours. You can pay up for the damage then. I've broken a few plates myself, Aunt Pitty's plates."

She let out a week laugh, her children observed the far away look in her eyes. Willing herself to talk on, Ella might forget about her ordeal since she would go crazy if she had to deal with any more crying, including her own.

"Right before the siege. I was out of my mind, frightened silly. I wanted to high tail it to Tara but couldn't because Auntie Melly was just about ready to have Beau. I was packing anything I could get my hands on, but the plates seemed to jump right out of my grip every time I heard the explosions.

"Explosions?" Wade asked, suddenly gripping her forearm, Ella leaned in closer, and Scarlett caught her breath for a moment, welcoming this foreign closeness she felt with her children. Their eyes looked to her with such intensity and their touch yearning for the affection she always had reserved for some disinterested person.

"When the Yankees invaded Atlanta?" Wade asked loudly.

"Not right then. I remember vaguely, but I think Uncle Rhett mentioned those explosions were from our men blowing up the rest of the ammunition before the Yankees could get to it." Scarlett answered.

The fire in Wade's eyes started to fade, and Scarlett couldn't put her finger on it, but although it required constant effort to keep the children's spirits up, there was a sense of reward and redemption being able to do so, and so easily. Their smiles and eager responses had managed to minimize the force of the downward pull of her worries and sorrows.

She continued, "But Wade, darling. You never left my side through it all."

How the painted image seemed to differ in Wade's memory, but he was just too thrilled to finally receive his mother's attention and praise, even though the flashes from his memory seemed twisted and contradictory. He cursed himself for having such nagging doubt.

'If mother saw it that way,' he thought, 'then it's the truth. She didn't leave any of us behind--Auntie Melly, Prissy and scared little ol' me.'

He recounted, "Auntie Melly said you're the bravest woman she ever knew because you took all of us back to Tara by yourself."

"Well, not all by myself. Uncle Rhett helped me get through the dangerous parts," she added, and her eyes began to flood with tears.

Wade gently shook her arm and said to her, "You said it yourself, Mother. I never left your side, and I never will."

In the same young, naïvely chivalrous tone his father used to talk, Scarlett saw what the fuss was all about with these Hamiltons and their idealism. He inherited that same charm and goodness Melly was so loved for. Although what he said to her afterwards gave her hope, in the same breath it broke her heart.

"That is, until Uncle Rhett returns to be by your side."


	4. Ch4 Playing By Heart

4 Playing By Heart

When things couldn't get any worse—after busying herself to pass the time awaiting to hear from Rhett, sometimes getting carried away fantasizing about his unannounced return—one ominous evening, another telegram arrived to put that all to rest.

She read it, and suddenly all those trifling activities she filled her days with were baring its weight on her fatigued body. She physically ached all over, her strength leaving her, letting the telegram slip to the floor as she walked straight for the brandy decanter.

The familiar warmth that ran down her throat and into her empty bosom, had also made its way to the tips of her shoulders working downward, and surging back up her spine, caressing the back of her neck before ascending to her forehead, where she felt the intoxicating liquor spread a calming warmth.

She immediately recoiled and looked at the empty glass, abruptly dropping it back on the tray, remembering who she was supposed to portray. Somehow she didn't understand that it was her conscience coming in to play. Moments like these before, she'd be at her second glass, rolling her eyes from side to side—a childhood habit she never gave up. She usually relished the challenge to see that if she was quick enough, no one would know the horrible sin she was about to commit, and to her delight rarely anyone did. But tonight, one person would, and it was the one who wanted to become like Melanie, Scarlett's new alter ego.

However, what her alter ego still found allowable was her quick temper. She scanned the room and saw the cup and saucer she had drank from in the morning, and wondered angrily why the maids didn't take it away. It was a convenient item to focus all her rage, disappointment and hurt on, conjuring up the recent memory of Ella's clumsiness to accompany it, as she picked the cup up and hurled it towards the fireplace.

Prissy came running in and received the brunt of her anger, "What do I have to do to get decent help around here? Great balls of fire! Prissy, the cup was here since this morning! What if a guest walked in?"

"But no one has called on you in a…." Prissy innocently blurted out, and she realized it was a mistake when Scarlett's neck craned, and her arms snapped straight behind her.

"That shouldn't matter! Now go and find a broom and sweep this mess up! And don't leave anything behind anymore, or I'll throw every piece of glass and plate, and see if you like picking up those pieces yourself. That should give you plenty to do to keep you busy while, while…." She stopped as she realized she was projecting her emotions on Prissy.

"Yas, Miss Scalit?" Prissy asked, after what was a long pause, wanting her to finish so she can excuse herself.

"That'll be all," and waved her off. As she left the room, she paid no mind to the discarded telegram that said,

NOT ABLE TO RETURN THIS MONTH STOP GIFTS ARRIVING SOON STOP RHETT.

She convinced herself earlier that she was not going to make another trip back to Tara in this cold weather, but now she would have to, to keep hers spirits up, and to lessen the flames of humiliation burning inside her. For days, she had prepared the house to make it look as festive as possible, inside and outside, and it did wonders for her and the children. They shared their joy and the thought that "This would be a perfect welcome home for Uncle Rhett."

Never did it once occur to her that an "extended trip" which he told the kids usually meant more than just a couple of months. In all appearances though, the Atlanta folks took note of all her recent efforts. She had made large orders from Fanny's bakery to send to members of Melanie's most cherished organization, The Widows and Orphans of the Confederate. She had put up a sign in the front window of her store, "Credit" to members belonging to the listed Atlanta organizations.

She knew times were tough after hearing the gripes of women in the Sewing Circle she rejoined, and had to endure the first few times, until she found that during those sessions her mind took a pause from obsessing about Rhett's impending return. The women noticed that she appeared withdrawn, yet dared not question her why or soothe her. They knew her temperament quite well, and pity was what she never received well. They were more relieved that with her being that way, they could lower their guard from expecting to hear the sharp tones and criticisms her conversations usually contained. It was more important to them that she was pleasant, rather than comforted.

But Scarlett was running low, and her spirit was crushed again with the telegram. She walked slowly back to her house on Peachtree street, which the children noticed since they were used to having to catch up behind her quick purposeful strides. And now Ella was the one practically tugging her forward. When Ella realized that her Mother stopped suddenly in her tracks, she looked up to find a searching look in her face and she started to become frightened. After all, there was a cold mist sweeping over Atlanta.

"Mother what is it?" The ever-inquisitive Ella asked.

"Can you hear that?" Scarlett asked them. Wade pressed closer to her. The kids strained to hear but their hearts started to beat rapidly into their ear.

'I do, Mother!" Ella whispered, "Singing?"

Scarlett nodded as she heard the faint sound. "I know how to play that song. I know that one."

She grimaced at the children who returned a confused smile. That night, well after dinner, the children were awakened to hear the same song playing on a pianoforte. The sound was closer than they remembered; only the lower and higher keys could be heard when it came from the pianoforte of their distant neighbor. Wade went back to sleep but Ella was too curious, to let it go since she had a love for music. It roused her from her bed and she followed the sound all the way down the hallway, down the stairs, then it grew its loudest inside the parlor. When she opened the door, she found her mother playing the pianoforte that had been long-hidden. Through no use, it simply blended with the carpeted walls, and the inordinate layers of drapery.

"I never knew you played, Mother," Ella said to Scarlett, who had stumbled on a piano key.

"Yes, and for that, I've almost forgotten how to."

"It sounds beautiful. I would like to learn how," Ella replied, and Scarlett stopped straining to remember the notes. In momentary self-disgust, she was reminded just how much she neglected her children, but as when ideas come to her, and they quickly did, her eyes lit up and she smiled at Ella.

"I'll send you to the best school…." started, Scarlett, but Ella excitedly interrupted.

"Why don't you to teach me? You play beautifully, mother. I heard you from my bedroom."

She was about to decline and point out reasons why a school would be so much better, but memories of Miss Ellen, came to her suddenly, gripping at her heart. The best memories she had with her mother, was being taught by her to play the pianoforte. She gloated over the fact that she was her mother's best student, and was passionate about playing the piano whenever the cold season set in—especially when she couldn't venture outside to reek havoc. With a bittersweet look back, she realized playing the pianoforte was the only thing she enjoyed, and excelled in learning from Miss Ellen.

"Alright. Alright, I will teach you, but you have to be on your best behavior."

"Cetainly, mother!" Ella squealed, smiling from ear to ear, and she turned to head out the door.

"Where do you think you're going, young lady? Don't you want to learn? Let's get started."

Ella hesitantly complied and thought to herself if being taught by her mother was actually a good idea. The thought stayed with her as Scarlett sat her down beside her, straightening every bone in her body to emphasize proper posture, and a number of things she was sure to forget. Only before she hit her first key, was she reassured.

"I will teach you exactly the way my mother, your grandma, taught me. I'll have you know she was quite a strict teacher, but I learned quickly and played better than my sisters. So if you pay attention like I did, then you'll play just like me. Now, didn't I say, sit up straight?"

Just as drearily December went, January did not arrive any better, bringing with it lower temperatures accompanied by unrelenting rain. They were all cooped up, and what added to her depression was that out of her irrational generosity the store had not broken even to recover from the loss made by the two week credit she offered in December. The city of Atlanta had an already hurting economy and the weather worsened her chances of getting caught up this month. It was not that she needed the money that bothered her, it was that this noble and humble act she was trying to pull was coming at great cost to her pocketbook.

One day, in the middle of January, the winds were particularly strong, whistling against window panes, which didn't phase her at all being so deep in her sulking. She sat reclined against the settee in the parlor staring aimlessly at the intricate designs of the Persian rug, when someone lightly tapped her shoulder from behind. She turned her head and a quiet voice asked,

"Excuse me, Mother…"

"What's wrong with your sister?" she asked, spotting her underneath Wade's arm, shivering and covering her ears.

"She's afraid of being upstairs where the thunder's much louder." Wade explained.

"Come here, Ella," she called for her, stretching her arms out. "Don't be silly now. You're perfectly safe in this house. Uncle Rhett saw to make it the most safe and sound house in Atlanta. Now stop your shaking, it's making me shake too."

Dealing with the children was another thing, and she was in no mood to tend to their neediness that miserable day. It seemed everyone was just as needy, and well provided for by her. Yet no one could address her neediness since it was about the one thing she couldn't ask for from anyone else—Rhett's touch.

The silence in the parlor was deafening until a thunderclap caused everyone to jump off their seats. Ella whimpered as Wade, yelped. What startled Scarlett were their reactions rather than the thunder itself. When the rain started to beat against the window, her mind travelled once again back to her childhood, when it was about that time during a rainstorm where her mother would start to pray out loud. Right away, she pushed that out of her thoughts, deciding to get everyone's mind off the rain through another method.

"Wade darling, please find something to do. Get a toy upstairs and you can play with it in here, only for today," she suggested.

"Thank you, mother, but I am not going up there alone."

"Well find something to do, son. Pick one of Uncle Rhett's books behind you."

When he returned to hand her the book, Scarlett stared at it being inches away from her face, and coxed her son into reading it for them, instead. After reading a few chapters of the book, he slammed it shut, utterly exhausted from reading out loud. Scarlett looked up as she watched Wade get up, about to walk across the room to pull out another book, and asked,

"Hold a minute, Wade. I want to know what is going to happen next. Why are you putting the book away?"

"It's boring, mother. I wish I was like Auntie Melly. She could finish reading the books she read to us, but I can't," he answered, slouching.

Scarlett eased back into the comfortable settee, and told him, "Continue on with the next chapter, Wade. Being like Auntie Melly takes practice. If you want, I'll read the next five chapters."

She was right about having to practice. Although Scarlett was a good reader, she lacked the inflection and animation, Melanie craftily used to keep her young audience captivated, even when the literature was too hard for them to grasp. The children looked catatonic by the time she was done with the third chapter, and that hit her ego. She closed the book and told the kids to follow her out of the parlor. At first they were anxious and assumed they were about to receive discipline for their poorly concealed boredom, but that was quickly thrown out when she said, while ascending up the stairs,

"If you want to make the story come alive, you've got to play the part!"

The kids clapped as they tried to keep up with her, Ella clumsily tripping on her dress, but never missed a step, not even when she heard the rumbling of thunder grow louder the higher she climbed.

"Now come along! Your mother is going to find you both the proper costumes."

"Auntie Melly used to make us do plays, too." Wade recalled.

"There are plays and there are theatrical performances. Wait and see what your mother puts together. It would be like nothing you've both experienced. "

Today, she realized, it was never in her to be noticed as someone coming from behind the shadows of someone else. She always needed to shine, and shine she did. And hated for it she was. But this time, she'd be loved for it. With enough practice, she could surpass the good deeds of Melanie, and leave so far behind a dark past, no one would want to venture back to recall. With enough practice in acting the part—loving and giving freely of herself—it would become more than second nature, it would become her epithet.

She wanted to put her restlessness to some good use, and instead of satisfying the urge to destroy all the possessions that failed to give her any source of happiness, she wanted to put some of it to use. And instead of being a poor imitation of Melly, she wanted to outdo her little deeds with the children, so that there simply would be no comparison. And it was easy as Scarlett soon figured, she had ten times more energy and charm their Auntie Melanie had always wished she had and admittedly envied her for.

The children would never forget about how their mother dressed for her parts, and never once questioned whether it befitted her characters. Scandalously clothed in a red sequence gown and dawning extravagant jewelry, she played the part of Fantine in Les Miserables, a woman whose dire poverty forced her into prostitution in order to put food in her daughter's mouth. Yes, Ella was the maltreated Cosette, but could've been mistaken for a French princess, from the little rouge transforming her awkward face into a lovely freckled green-eyed girl, wearing a long ruffly white gown, and a sparkling tiara.

Scarlett especially had fun trying to find a costume for Wade, in Rhett's closet of all places. How sly she was, having another agenda on her mind. It was a rare opportunity for her to snoop through his things without appearing so, and the children helped make the invasion of privacy seem the most innocent. After Wade had discarded one of Rhett's shirts, she kept it in her room underneath her pillows, sometimes using it as a night dress, and in lonelier nights as a cloth to wipe the tears from her face.

The mess they made were picked up quickly and replaced quicker by another batch of discarded clothing, but the servants didn't mind the added chore since they were not only the clean up crew, they were the audience. It had been a while since laughter and a light air permeated the unreleased tension-thick walls of the mansion. The children were so distracted by their activities, they never once flinched when hearing the thunder crackle and the house vibrating from it. Ella continued to learn to play notes with Scarlett, and in one rainy afternoon, the parlor door swung open.

The two ladies both turned after hearing a familiar boisterous voice, "Amusing ourselves in this awful weather, are we?"

Wade appeared from behind the settee and practically jumped over it to get to him. His coat was drenched, and his hair was disheveled, but Rhett stood before them with such poise no one guessed, there was an urgency in him, to return despite having to face one of the worst storms to hit the Atlantic seaboard.

_**To be continued….**_

_Please review and tell me what you think._


	5. Ch 5 Eye of the Storm

Ch 5 Eye of the Storm

Scarlett spun around to stand but didn't take a single step forward. It took some time to convince her betraying thoughts that the voice she heard didn't come from her wishful mind, but from the actual person who had dominated it in his absence. To her delightful surprise, he was standing there, so real, in the flesh, that she swore she could feel his damp body radiate heat into the already warm room. Immediately she ordered Wade to fetch the servants.

Although there was an awkward silence, Ella was the only one who felt it, since both her parents were taking in everything else around them.

Before stepping into the parlor, Rhett observed how several things in the mansion looked misplaced, like the dining chairs missing, discovering them inside the parlor. And several mirrors removed from the walls, found again, in the parlor, leaning against disheveled book shelves.

He furrowed his brows as he scanned the room, Scarlett followed his gaze and immediately explained, "We weren't expecting you."

To that he looked at her with his mocking smirk, and replied, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but no to worry. My stay will be brief."

If anyone knew how to sour the situation faster than pouring vinegar on a burn wound it would be Rhett Butler, she thought. And if there was anyone who acted like a festering burn wound reacting to the acid treatment it would be Scarlett O'Hara Butler.

She snapped at Ella, and at Wade who just came in with Dilcey.

"Go to your room children and prepare for supper! It seems we have an unexpected guest."

"But Mother, what about our lesson, and Uncle--?" Ella asked.

"We're done early for today. Now do as I say!" She hollered, ushering the kids back out the door before they could give their Uncle Rhett a decent welcome home.

She quickly ordered Dilcey to, "Please tell Pork to take Mr. Butler's wet clothes as soon as he gets out of them and hang them by the kitchen furnace. Let's hope it'll dry before Mr. Butler is done with his brief visit here with us!"

"Yes Miss Scarlett." Dicley said, and respectfully acknowledged Rhett's presence, bowing before running the other direction. "Welcome home, Mista Butler."

Scarlett quickly dashed up the stairs while it took Rhett a few strides to catch up with her. She didn't want to be angry at the first sight of him, especially when she imagined his return, and how it was nothing at all like this. Somehow if she could gather herself without him badgering her she could recompose herself and show him she was the lonely, faithful wife who so missed her husband. If she could just get away for a minute, but as always, Rhett's homecomings never lacked dramatic grand entrances and self-indulgence.

"I apologize for interrupting the life you're proceeding to take on. Although, I must suggest that you must slow down with the many details you add on to the servant tasks they can't seem to keep up with standard house cleaning." Rhett chided.

"What is all that supposed to mean?" She asked, pausing her ascent on the stairs, insulted further by his consistent lack of fundamental good manners. "What life? I haven't been able to do much in this weather since you, since you…..Never mind."

As she resumed her walk, Rhett realized he couldn't continue to do this, and felt the disappointment come out with his voice.

"The house is a mess. Everything is out of place."

With her back turned, she didn't think twice about concealing the triumphant smile emerging from her face.

"Yes it is, Rhett. For now." She continued, turning aside to give Rhett only a view of her cheek.

"By suppertime, everything will be back in order the way it always has been. What's been out of place is the chair at the end of the dining room—where you used to sit. That is, until today. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to change for the evening."

When they both reached the top of the stairs, Rhett stayed put and asked her straight out,

"Is that your way of telling me, you missed me?"

This time, Scarlett turned to face him, took a breath and calmly replied, "That is one way I could tell you, but there are other ways I'd prefer to let you know how much I do. After all you had just said, I don't believe you're ready to accept it. I don't want my sincerity questioned."

She was so strikingly beautiful whenever she was angry, especially when those intense emotions, he often mistook as passion, were directed at him. Even in misery, pain and social ruin his Scarlett could always manage to pull off the image that her dignity and honor was still intact. But he knew more than anyone else, her anger gave her away. In Scarlett fashion, he knew how much she missed him. And in return, he grew afraid of the fact that Scarlett was beginning to know him. She was right. He wouldn't be ready to accept it. He returned expecting Scarlett to appear like an undernourished wilted flower pining for his attention. After all the things she said before he left, he had never seen Scarlett go after him, pleading, speaking words of love for him, exposing her heart. Her readiness to fall at his feet was the likely course he imagined, but as usual, he underestimated her strength. She revealed how she felt by refusing to have it challenged by him. Under his breath, in a frustrated tone, he murmured watching her walk away, "What a woman."

Her confidence at that stairs and while staring down Rhett at the dining table came from her greatest credentials—her children, who both endlessly chatted about the many wonderful things their mother had done with them while he was away.

Over the past few months, the severe weather had forced her to take a mental trip back in time before the war when she was a vivacious beauty all deserving of praise, honor, and attention. Through the stories of the piles of books they read, she always compared herself to every heroine. The ones she liked, she used for the plays to entertain the audience, and the ones she couldn't understand she quietly read over and over again. One day, it would be a topic of discussion she will bring up with Rhett if all her schemes to win him back were exhausted by then. If she couldn't stimulate him physically then mentally just might crack open the window into his heart. Time was spent teaching the children fine etiquette, and they were so amazed to see it as second nature to their mother. They admired her, started to worship her. She was flawless. Her temper tantrums were quickly overlooked by the wealth of energy and charm she had exerted on them.

After they had talked their mouths sore, Scarlett let Ella play the pianoforte. She was still fumbling on the keys, but Scarlett remained unusually encouraging, wanting to maintain a good impression on Rhett. When she turned to look at Wade reading out loud, she noticed Rhett sitting across him but looking more withdrawn than engaged. She returned to her task and excused the children as soon as she finished the lesson she had cut short with Ella earlier that afternoon.

"Rhett, would you like me to pour you a drink?"

He looked up at her and studied her face for a second before standing.

"Thank you, no. I have a concern that brought me all the way from Europe to tell you in person. In keeping up with appearances, Scarlett," he started to say and she felt her heart fall.

He didn't miss her, and she was glad she didn't throw herself at him, as much as every bone in her body wanted to that moment.

"… I have to ensure, you are well taken care of here. And by that, I mean financially stable. Being here, in the middle of all the politics and propaganda, no one can clearly see the economic situation Atlanta is in. Even you, now. What has caused your tight grip on your funds to loosen?"

"How did you--?" Scarlett asked but he answered her before she could finish.

"I keep a tight watch on all my assets, if you know what I mean?" he answered, and added, "If you want to live the lavish life for several more years, you have to be more scrutinizing of our charities."

"Well, Rhett, I can explain."

"I know why you did it. The warrant of explanation is not why I am here. I am here to advise you to ease up on your charitable donations. Altanta's economy will continue to go downhill. Now don't tell your newfound sympathizers about this insight alarming them to go fleeing to the foothills like the day of the siege. Everyone has been rationing, except you. It's no wonder you are back in their good graces."

Was that bile she felt coming up her throat? Why did Rhett always manage to make her kind acts end up so unpalatable at the thought of it?

"You did it, why shouldn't I? It worked didn't it? If you had kept it up, they'd erect a statue of you on a horse the way you use to go trotting about…." Scarlett cut herself off as she watched him walk away from her towards the rain spattered window.

She knew she shouldn't have said that. It was never about him. Why he did it. He did it for their precious Bonnie. An apology would not mend the wound that apparently had not begun to heal. To Rhett, Bonnie's loss would always seem like a fresh cut through the heart. Scarlett walked over to him, with her head bent low, and submitted to his request.

"I apologize, Rhett, for causing concern regarding my spending of late. I will be mindful of it during these hard times. I wouldn't want to put my children's future at risk. They are all that keep me going."

He turned to face her, and patted her shoulder before walking away. He finally went for the brandy.

"To their future, we owe a drink," he uttered as he poured a glass for himself and offered the next one to Scarlett, who accepted it. "If its one thing I can trust about you, it's your head for business. And like you, what keeps me going is the vision I have of acquiring an enormous lot in life. Before my adventurous spirit is taken over by old age, I would like to have amassed a great fortune as my legacy."

"Is that why you went to Europe? To secure your fortune as you had once?" Scarlett asked, but the look on his face made her regret asking, anticipating to learn, that perhaps business was not at all what lured him there.

"Not at first. I always enjoyed the freeness and less restrictive lifestyle Europeans exhibited. It was refreshing to blend in, but it lost its appeal quickly. I need my future to be secure no matter how the world changes."

"Just how rich do you want to get? You're quite wealthy now…"

He laughed, and added, "Another thing about the future, because the Old Guard will start to see the economy crumbling before them, you can relay so subtly that it is what calls me away often. The South has changed forever, and as much as I like to be a loyal Southerner, there isn't much that can sustain my dreams of acquiring untold riches my business skills deem me far more capable of obtaining in this region. So as it is, I am going to venture into Texas and try to strike it rich once again with gold, black gold that is. And as for you, venturing out of Atlanta might be a healthy idea during this crisis."

She didn't react to the news that made it permissible for him to walk in and out of her life as he pleased. She gulped down the small remaining portion of her drink, obviously not thrilled with the discussion, until her face lit up. Then it was as if the alcohol trickled down the length of her entire body, giving her exposed skin a warm glow. For a moment, Rhett grew wary unable to stop his ability to read her.

"I must admit, you will make quite the convincing loving provider, and for that you should be handsomely compensated. If you must do what you have to Rhett, I would never want to get in the way of your desires. I could help you fulfill them if you allow me....the part about your legacy."

Suddenly his eyes grew dark, and his mouth precariously hung open below his well-trimmed mustache as he listened to the daring statement his wife was attempting to make while moving past him to drop her empty glass.

…… "I shall no longer deny you anything—your marital rights as a husband. Pardon my boldness, for I will not speak of it again, but do know, Rhett, that my bedroom door is always open to you whenever you return."

The only thing he caught of her when he looked up was the tail end of her wrapper, whipping the bottom edge of the parlor door before it and she completely disappeared into the darkness.

The burning alcohol enflamed his insides even more, even as he fought the will to run after her and take her offer right on the spot. He heaved as the third glass started to distort his judgment, yet improve his memory on the last time he had drank this way endeavoring to erase his allegedly adulterous wife from his tormented mind. Just as it didn't work favorably to chasten him then, it was failing miserably now. He had to get out of the room, increasingly suffused by her rose water fragrance. He walked towards the foyer and opened the door to step out hoping the cold rain would extinguish the virulent heat engulfing him.

It had been years since he had abandoned the passion inspired by his wife, the night she declared not to reciprocate hers, and now it was awakened and stirred like a beast about to break through its chains. He couldn't believe that the power of that passion was no where near dead, but dormant, until it was brought back to budding life that very night.

He didn't trust allowing himself to have the slightest physical contact with Scarlett. It would result in a humiliation worst than a heretic's death. It was too early in the grieving process for both Ashley and Scarlett to see that their union would be inevitable. And he wanted to step out of the middle of that before anyone saw it coming. Even Rhett had to create an appearance of dignity and honor walking away from the love of his life. Nothing defeated him, not his expulsion from West Point, not his father's ostracism, not the stormy seas threatening to capsize his boat while under enemy fire, nothing except love. His heart had been declared powerless by a petite, country girl who was anything but simple, complicated in every way; ornate, she radiated the beauty of a royal dame in full festoon. He had never been taken like that by a woman before, and again, Scarlett's discreet seduction almost made him toss aside memories of all those troubled years between them. But try with all his might, he grounded himself with those dark memories. Almost running, he raced towards the stables to saddle a horse.

He galloped into town, and wondered how far he needed to go to get her out of his system. Stopping by Belle's place came to mind, but internally he was repulsed at himself. Why turn to her when his wife was willing and inviting him to fulfill his needs—his long-standing insatiable needs. He let out a laugh, and wondered where the rain went. Not a drop fell from the sky even as the thunder crackled. Not a drop to quell his desire for her, to dampen his stirred spirit. Although he realized he would find no peace out there by distancing himself from Scarlett, when home was a beckoning invitation for him to return, he could not remove from his heart a raging storm. The slicing of her betrayal, the bleeding from her torn affections, the ravaging vengeance building towards Ashley Wilkes for merely existing, as ineffectual a person he was, was the one thing standing between Rhett and peace. As a trained seaman, he knew by the signs in the air and sky that this eerie calm usually came before storms. So peace was not attainable, not yet. And maybe not ever, as long as Scarlett lived and loved as passionately as she always did. He could not face the thought that one day, she'd do it again—transfer her affections in an instant.


	6. Ch 6 Testing The Waters

_**Sorry this took a while, but my time has only allowed me to let the fanfic simmer inside my head. I hope you enjoy this one. The winds are changing for these characters. I imagined that MM ended where she ended, because life for R&S was coming to a resolve, and we know that kills a story. So that's why this site exists. GWTW is about grand adventures and it must occur before R&S inevitably get together. Will they in this chapter? Read on… **_

6 Testing The Waters

Scarlett heard the sound of a galloping horse and looked out the window from her darkened room to see the figure racing into the darkened street. She knew Rhett would be gone the next day. Quickly, she ran to her vanity, lit her lamp, took out some stationary and began writing. Rhett Butler could run to the farthest end of even the uninhabited world, but this time she would not allow her presence to ever leave him.

As the wife of Rhett Butler, she was dead on target about his abrupt departure. She was almost sure it was because of the overture she made about sealing the fulfillment of his grand purpose in life through procreation.

On the first train out of the station, Rhett reached in for his handkerchief and felt an envelope beside it. He had been settled into his chair for an hour staring at the envelope on his tray table. The passenger beside him lost count of how many times he picked up the envelope and dropped it back down. Rhett finally made up his mind. He picked up the envelope, stretched his lapel out to place it back in the pocket when he caught a sniff of a faint odor. He lifted the envelope to his nose, and there she was, in his mind. The scent on the envelope was so subtle, he could tell she did not tactfully spray it on. This was the smell of her, her sanctuary, the bedroom he was more than welcomed back into. 'For the time being,' he added to his thoughts. Although he made up his mind not to read it, he could not find the strength to throw it away. What a foolish romantic he accused himself of being.

The rain finally abated, and Atlanta was back to its original hustle and bustling pace. With well-informed eyes, Scarlett could see the truth in Rhett's prediction about the city's economy. She was disappointed, however, that her prediction about his departure had come true. But it didn't stop her from continuing to plan her next moves towards winning his heart again. She was happy to write him a simple letter, hoping the lightness of it would relieve the tension she could sense he was shouldering.

It would be almost six weeks before Rhett finally opened the letter. He was heading out to ride in the middle of 'nowhere' Texas to find his kind of gold. Casino owners had poured in tons of money on Rhett's campaign because of his vast experience in bringing in the goods through impenetrable channels. They knew his operation would produce great results, and he was well-liked by common people since he was not afraid to get down in the trenches to work alongside them. Sporting the finest leather boots, vest and Stetson with the complementing bristly stubbles on his face, he dismounted from his exhausted horse and pulled out from his saddle the letter, causing its sensual fragrance to blow in the arid panhandle air.

It was not the heavy emotional letter dripping with romantic sap that he expected it to be. He was surprised at himself for erroneously thinking so since that had always been unlike Scarlett. Why would she do that now? Change? He asked himself. He wondered if 'to change' was what he wanted Scarlett to do. Nevertheless, he was forever amazed that whatever Scarlett set out to do, bad or good, would be accomplished.

Among mentioning that she was glad to have the chance to see him before he set out on his 'epic' journey, she and the children would often think of him, and anxiously await his return, what struck him was the imagery she created as she wrote,

"_I will be taking the children to Tara in March to witness spring come into full bloom in the countryside. Perhaps I will show them my childhood secret place. I remember someone dear to me recommending doing things for fun. I should do as much as I can before, I, too, shall grow older. Until I see you again. Love, Scarlett."_

Cutting to the chase, between the lines, there was another open invitation so subtle no one would be offended if the other should decline or was less discerning. Scarlett figured if Rhett was reluctant to reveal the details of his ventures, then she would reveal her plans for the purposes of remaining within reach. Although she fantasized about Rhett dropping his pursuit to be richer once he realized he missed her, just as he had during his blockade running days, she wasn't counting on it actually happening this time. Instead, she resigned herself to the possibility that he'd go only as far as replying to her letter.

February went by without a reply, but Scarlett kept looking forward to the splendor Tara would lay out before her. She meant what she said. She was going to have her fun. Why sit around and mope when she was in demand, by Atlanta society, and by her doting children?

Before she fled Atlanta, she made a considerable donation from a stash of undeposited funds made by the store, hoping it would escape Rhett's detection. She had promised the Old Guard a fixed amount to take care of the cost incurred for the Spring Ball. If Rhett hadn't left so abruptly again, she would've remembered to brag about becoming the chief contributor of Atlanta's biggest event. Now she had to flee from making more donations on inevitably unforeseen costs in all efforts to make the Ball a success. True to heeding Rhett's advice, she made her excuses, and was strolling through the magnificent red clay dirt in no time.

Scarlett couldn't stay dry on land any longer. She had taken her children to the pond where all of Clayton County youths had spent many carefree days in spring and summer. The Tarleton boys had claimed to discover the pond after confirming that none of the County parents had known it to exist. And who would learn that this new discovery was taking the attention away from her? Once she learned of it, the pond was never the same. All the young county kids would disappear at the same hour of the day. Their slaves were bound to secrecy, until Dr. Fontaine, who did know about the pond, and who planted medicinal herbs by it, made a shocking discovery. Girls in their shimmies jumping into the water! It was scandalous for the old man. Word went around and the pond was placed off limits. However, Fontaine kept it discreet about Scarlett since his daughter was just as deep in the same pond water as she was.

Now Ella, ever-so trying to please her mother, stepped into the clammy, cold pond, concealed her fright that something underneath the murky waters would grab her at any second, yet willed herself to brave it every time she saw how skilled a swimmer her mother was, splashing and racing with Wade. After seeing how refreshed the children were, Sue Ellen soon found herself at the pond making a picnic for the children. She couldn't help but observe that the vibrant personality that made Scarlett so alluring had returned to her on that spot. It usually sparked a gnawing sense of jealousy within her, but on that particular day, it had filled her with pride to be Scarlett's sister. She had been reminded that peace could be found again by reliving the golden days of the past, and it was Scarlett who never turned her back on the family. Even if she took them on begrudgingly, they all wouldn't be in such a state of comfort no other folks in the county could ever regain. Then and there, were no beaux to fight over—just time to mend and bond. Scarlett felt Sue Ellen staring, and winked at her before resuming to teach the girls how to do a back float.

Right before sunset one evening, Ellen's youngest girl came running upstairs yelling for Auntie Scarlett to come down. When Scarlett raced downstairs, Will and Sue Ellen looked at her guiltily. Concern building, she asked, "What is it?"

"A telegram just came in?" Sue Ellen answered.

"Is it bad news?" she asked, as her sister's eyes practically had relayed.

"It's from Rhett.."

Scarlett grabbed the telegram from her hand and her eyes widened as she read it. She lifted her eyes to Sue Ellen's. Confused she wondered outloud,

"How could this message possibly be bad news?"

"Just when things couldn't be better, he wants to take you away from us," Sue Ellen answered and stormed passed Scarlett, leaving Will to do the explaining.

Will remained silent leaning against one of the columns. He didn't have to look her way to see the elation building up in her.

"As soon as you're packed, kissed all the young uns goodbye, I'll make sure you get on that train for the dusty ole state of Texas."

_They will reunite next chapter, but it will certainly bring up mixed emotions between the two. Please review. I'd like to hear how you think of what's going on so far. Is Scarlett's personality to your liking? What about Sue Ellen's? I'd love to hear from you!_


	7. Ch7 The Texas Manhandle

The Texas Manhandle

Will Benteen's words rang true in Scarlett's head as she was greeted by a cloud of dust while taking her first step out of the train and into a building, in what seemed to be in the middle of a desert. She held her hand up in a poor attempt to shield her porcelain face from the stinging breeze that swirled around her, all the while keeping her eyes on the look-out for a dark haired man. Most likely, the only man wearing a panama hat amidst a sea of dingy cowboy hats. Suddenly, she felt a tap on her left shoulder. She immediately turned with her eyes pinned upward to meet Rhett's gaze, but there was no one there. She felt contact again. Only this time it was a tug—prompting her to look downward.

A very petite man, almost the same height as Wade, had taken his hat off, and uttered in a British accent, "You must be Mrs. Butler. There must be no mistake. Mr. Butler said you'd arrive in the finest frock that is sure to catch notice. Oh, I beg your pardon. I'm Hugh Mckay, at your service."

Reluctantly she shook his hand while asking, "Where's Rhett?"

"He'll be coming soon. On horseback. I was sent to make sure you get settled in properly."

He ushered her out of the station, and they both rode into a small developing town. On the ride over, he began to tell her all about the famous Beach Hotel, where she was to reside during her stay in Galveston Bay.

"You may want to freshen up before I take you to meet Mr. Butler. If everything is on schedule, then he will be arriving in two hours, but it will take us about a half hour to get there."

With a suspicious arching eyebrow, Scarlett asked, "How do you know my husband Mr. McKay?"

"From London, Mrs. Butler. He attended one of my lectures at the university. It was at his sister's behest. I'm an archeologist," he replied.

"Rosemary? A archy-o…?"

"Oh no Rosemary is not an archeologist. She majored in literature, I am the archeologist."

Scarlett had no clue what that was, but pressed on. Her curiosity about Rhett's new associate was peaked.

"Why would he need an ar-chy-o-go….your expertise?"

With his British wit, he simply and successfully distracted her, "According to Mr. Butler, I was sent to entertain you, not to bore you with other matters."

She definitely didn't want to worry about anything else but to look absolutely beautiful for Rhett. She settled in at the plush resort, and waited for Mr. Mckay who took longer to freshen up than she did. Immediately after, they rode off again, for the outskirts of town. Within an hour, they both arrived at a small settlement. The smell of cattle was strong, yet no animal was in sight. Mckay quickly took Scarlett into a saloon where he grabbed her the most delicious mimosa she had ever tasted. She was so tempted to get something stronger to calm her racing heart which seemed to beat faster as the hour seemed to drag on. It didn't help that the men in the saloon were boisterous, having liquor for breakfast, and pausing only to wink at her as she glared at them. She quickly made an excuse to get some fresh air. Once outside, she leaned on one of the posts and quickly found herself lost in thought. It was like being sixteen all over again, having the familiar yet welcomed anxiety of awaiting a beau. However, the bleak reality was too strong for her girlish fantasy, yet she fought to keep it out. She just didn't know anymore what to expect from him. Try as she did, she couldn't escape the fact that he had become a stranger to her.

Pondering on her dilemma never sat well with her as it caused her head, the hub of all her appealing attributes, to experience unpleasant spasms. She felt a rumbling deep within her and wondered if her stomach was going to give out on her. Then it got deeper. Soon the post started to vibrate. She held on as the sound grew stronger and as the earth started to rattle. A dust cloud appeared before it fully engulfed the street before her. Inside the mist, she could make out a herd of cattle stampeding down the street. She could hear the cowboys making their noises and cows mooing. It almost seemed like forever before the cows were rustled into fences, but the cowboys tirelessly rode back and forth keeping the traffic moving along. For some reason, Scarlett stayed out there watching, not concerned a bit about how her face was now covered in soot. She was captivated by the large number of cows that were rustled. Her business mind came into play immediately. She was convinced the owner of these cows would get a hefty sum. It also reminded her of Rhett's shrewdness. Then an overwhelming sense of longing filled her. She truly wanted to see Rhett. While lost in her thoughts a cowboy dismounted and approached her. It took her a few seconds to climb out of her deep thoughts before she noticed him right in front of her.

"Good morning, Mrs. Butler."

She recognized his voice immediately.

She looked up and uttered, "Rhett!"

He tipped his hat, and Scarlett eyed him, completely mesmerized. He had never looked so filthy yet his full, but neatly trimmed beard, his disheveled hair, sunburnt face, slimmer waistline accentuating his robust upper- body physique, weathered suede boots, leather vest, and his sweat-stained shirt somehow all together created an amalgamation of ultimate masculinity. He exuded musk and a virility that had been only a blur in her mind, listening to stories of men of the wild, wild west—until now. His Stetson hat was like the proverbial icing melting on a decadent, velvet cake which Scarlett never had problems devouring, especially at Mammy's indignation.

Rhett saw it in her face, and decided to use his horse as a shield from Scarlett's intense gaze. While creating an elaborate knot on the horse post, he politely asked, "How are the children?"

"They were sad to see me go, but I promised to bring home a gift for them."

She wanted to say he was the gift she wanted to bring to them, but it just might dampen the moment worst than if a flash flood would flow right through them in the parched desert where they both stood together in what felt like ages to her.

Suddenly, a buggy approached, and it was Mr. McKay at the reins.

"Care for a ride?" Mckay asked.

Before Rhett climbed up, his team of cowboys, passed by initially headed for the saloon. They stopped on their tracks wondering if the beautiful unusually overdressed woman was the woman Captain Rhett Butler had run away from. News got around quickly, and it all started when Mr. McKay had accidentally intoxicated himself one night, sipping on some moonshine one of the cowboys had smuggled for the trip. Of course Rhett was fast asleep, as he was every night out on the range. As soon as all the men fell asleep, he'd awaken and stare out into the violet horizon. He was always deep in thought, one of the older cowboys called Jeb, could tell. It was often just the two of them up on Jeb's watch. Even as they rode for days, he'd catch Mr. Butler gazing towards the horizon as if he longed to grab hold of it.

Jeb would always think back to what Mr. Mckay had said about him that night, "I've never met his wife myself, but I've never seen a man more afraid to love a woman than Mr. Butler. Once he's had more than enough to drink, there wasn't a sentence he'd utter without her name in it. And he'd always end it with, "That's why I'm here."—London, he means—He's been to London twice to get away from her, but he always returns to her, against his will, but not his heart."

"You men go clean up yourselves and grab some grub. I'd introduce you to my lovely wife, but all your faces are caked with dirt, even I couldn't tell you all apart. Now go on, and I'll be back, after I have taken this lovely lady for a nice stroll out in the prairie." Rhett chided, and arched his brow upward, signaling the men to bid their adieus. They tipped their hats in response to his gesture to tip his, and walked straight for the saloon.

Scarlett would often turn to Rhett as he conversed with Mr. McKay, but he never looked her way. As the town disappeared behind them, Rhett quickly leaned forward as Mr. McKay gave him a rolled up piece of paper. The stroll in the prairie abruptly ended as it turned into a bumpy race towards the middle of nowhere.

Having to shout over the thundering gallops, Rhett began to explain to an excited Scarlett, "Scarlett, listen carefully because what you're about to see is your future and Wade's future! One filled with unimaginable riches!"

"Being a cattle rancher, Rhett! You want Wade to rustle cows? That's how we're going to be rich! We'd be neck high in bull manure before we ever get rich, Rhett!"

"Enjoy the ride, Scarlett. You might miss what you're really supposed to see."

He sat back and laughed loudly watching Scarlet's irritation grow as the buggy jostled her around her seat. In no time they reached their destination.

Mr. Mckay pulled out some equipment from the back, and pulled from a sack a few rocks. He handed them to Rhett, and walked off towards stakes sticking up from the cracked dirt. He yelled, "This is where I found them!"

Rhett held them close to his eyes studying them.

"Just like the other sites?"

"Yes. They're all over this region!"

An intrigued Scarlett asked, "What is it? Diamonds?"

"No, it's too close to the surface. It's older." Rhett answered. "They're bones."

Scarlett gasped. "Rhett! How…?

"Fossils, dinosaur bone fragments."

Scarlett's head started to ache. An overwhelming sense of concern began to creep into her mind. Was Rhett losing it? Searching for bones all this time? He really did go out of his mind. She sighed, then Rhett turned to face her and moved closer to figure out her mood.

"Scarlett. What did I say I would set out to do?"

"You said you were looking for gold, Rhett. That's not gold, I'll tell you. You've been out in the sun too long, you can't tell the difference anymore. Rhett come home, you're getting too old to be playing cowboy in the hot sun of the desert that you can't tell gold from a piece of bone that could have very well come from a cow or a buffalo for that matter."

Rhett arched his neck back and laughed as loud and hard and long for the first time in years. It annoyed her as it always did in those days. Mr. Mckay was taken aback himself and stood where he was, mystified.

"Would you mind telling me what's so amusing? Have you really gone mad?"

"No, Scarlett. But yes. I'm here to look for bones. Because bones tell our helpful scientist here where more remains will be found. After all, what is oil? It comes from the remains of creatures that roamed the earth millions of years ago. This, my dear wife, is black gold, and it's all over here."

He had never seen Scarlett's eyes flash so brightly as it certainly danced from the vision of a life filled with extreme luxury. Then it was back to being puzzled again.

"So are we still going to raise cattle?"

He laughed again.

Scarlett listened to Rhett run on about his ingenious plan to use the cattle business as a diversion from his real pursuit. He gained insight on this lucrative opportunity during his travels to upstate New York, hearing of this Rockefeller character being the richest man in America. Rhett felt he was smarter than he, but also felt time was working against him especially with his advancing age. He left it alone until his trip to London gave him a sense as if fate was letting all things fall into place. Of all people to meet, he met Mr. McKay, an admirer of his sister Rosemary. Being the evermore overprotective brother, of which is one tragic reason for his sister's spinsterhood, he decided to hear this young professor, and assert for himself if he was just a pretentious, smoke-blowing Brit. He was glad to be mistaken, and found himself actually taken by his teachings of archaeological findings. He would return home with a mission.

"I am going to purchase those thousands of acres for cattle grazing, but I don't own the cattle, my investors do. They'll become rich as a result of this growing industry. I just want to own the real estate. And when the time is right, several years from now, I'm going to send a team of experienced men to start drilling the ground for oil. Now you must keep this to yourself. I know you will. The rich have all kinds of secrets to amassing their huge fortunes."

As enthralled as Scarlett was, her old self began to resurface. Whenever a conversation veered away from her interests—herself, she'd steer it back to the topic, but this time her heart ached too much to make the effort. Instead, she internalized her disappointment, not wanting to ruin this reunion of sorts with Rhett. He had a new passion that was going to keep him away. That is, unless, she could do something about it.

"Does this mean you will be spending most of your time out here?" she asked.

"If you're asking, will I be returning to Atlanta any time soon, the answer is, no. So you'll have your freedom, Scarlett. The way you have always wanted it."

He wasn't going to ruin her determination to win him back. She wasn't going to fold her cards, she was going to put everything on the table for it. She was finally this close to him and nothing seemed to matter.

"I'd be glad to leave Atlanta and move here to be closer to you, Rhett," she replied almost shakily.

His eyes darkened, as if a storm of emotions were raging inside them. Then he laughed again, turning away from her, but towards the horizon as he said, "Galveston is no place for a lady with your charms."

"I'm no lady. You often reminded me of that. But I want to be one, as genuine as my mother, and this is where we both can start anew."

"We better head back. Looks like it's finally going to rain." Rhett replied gazing at the thickening clouds over his ever-elusive horizon.

Once they reached the hotel, Scarlett walked in noticing that her luggage was stationed at front of the lobby.

Rhett grabbed it, and carried it towards the exit, but Scarlett called for him.

Rhett! Our room is this way."

"On the contrary my dear. You will not be spending the night in this neck of the woods. It's not safe. I will have Mr. Mckay take you to the train station at once. I have to leave at the crack of dawn tomorrow. So you see. There is no reason to stay."

"Why, it's not enough time, Rhett. Can't I stay and take a later train?" She pleaded.

"There's only one train heading for the East and you must get on it, Scarlett. Mr. Mckay will accompany you, and see to your safety."

"I don't need him. I need you, Rhett."

Yet what she really wanted to say was, 'Don't you need me?' although her thoughts aimed to say, 'body.' All she could ask was, "Is this all why I was sent?

"This is no small matter, Scarlett. You and your children will receive an inheritance that will last for generations. I need you to go home now. I brought you here to ensure that if I die before my time, you will know why I purchased a huge lot in a dust bowl, and you will instruct Wade, at that time, and only that time, to follow through with my instructions. He'll be a man in a few years. He was raised well, by Melly. I have complete confidence, the honor he learned from her, will prepare him to take on this legacy."

He continued out the door and placed her luggage bag into the buggy where both he and Mckay waited for her to follow.

Scarlett sat in a first class car, staring out the window as Mr. Mckay was preoccupied with straightening the luggages, and his equipment. His determination to straighten his equipment for the third time drove her to distraction. He still hadn't stowed her luggage. It was practically keeping the door from shutting. Scarlett quickly stood and grabbed her luggage about to say a few words. Just then, the whistle blew, and she turned to look at the usher who stood by the train door awaiting the second whistle to signal for the doors to be closed.

"There we go. All secure and fastened. You can be sure nothing will be rattling to disturb your sleep all the way back to Atlanta, Mrs. Butler…..Mrs. Butler?"

Her luggage was gone and so was she, as the train chugged out of Galveston.

To be continued…..

Please tell me what you think. Your reviews fuel the locomotive of my imagination. And believe me when I say the next chapter will have a lot of steam.


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